Shame, what is it?
How does it come about.
To have the knowledge that you lost control.
A silver tongue, an impulsive act.
Fingers stretch as they reach for the heavens, chained below and drowning.
Morals are lost and forgotten,
You dance high and above clouds,
Naked as the sun.
Shining in all it's glory.
Ashamed of what?
What purpose does it hold but to make you miserable and cold. Conforming to societies regal and old.
Traditions that make us feel disgusted with our own bodies, our own souls.
We are beautiful,
No matter the flesh or the eyes or the hair, we are beauty, no matter the size or the height.
We are.
We are.
Unashamedly beautiful.
So smile.
The clouds may rain,
The sun may hide,
The air is cold,
But that's the beauty of it all isn't it?